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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239604">Going down, going up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zydecoXylophone/pseuds/zydecoXylophone'>zydecoXylophone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grojband</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Communication, Friendship, Gen, Gen Work, neurodiverse characters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:00:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zydecoXylophone/pseuds/zydecoXylophone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So the start of high school has less than stellar beginnings. At least his friends are there to drag him out his depression marinade.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Going down, going up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>have you ever been possessed by the ghost of hyperfocus past and smash out a fic for an obscure cartoon from nearly a decade ago?</p><p>NOTE: edited!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>So when you’re an overemotional teen, you better hope you have some healthy habit to vent said emotions. Be it a diary, music or just plain crying it out to act like a pressure release valve. Some people blew up every week while others could hang onto it for ages. It was like the difference between a tea kettle and a water heater about to go atmospheric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trina Riffin’s diary modes acted as that safety measure when it comes to emotions. It wears her out, but it’s nothing a short nap or an energy drink couldn’t fix at worst. It was something to take the extreme edge off and let her continue about her day. Corey, on the other hand, had nothing of the sort. Why would he when he could simply strum some chords and forget about it with his band? That was what he did to chill out, up until he broke his playing arm with a whole month of summer left to go before high school. In front of the whole town no less. Including the dreaded Newmans. If that public humiliation wasn’t enough, his OCD and ADHD decided to flare up in the lost practice time. Starting high school certainly wasn't helping the stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was elevator music of all things to push him over the edge, when his friends decided to spend a day shopping at the mall. Not his proudest moment. Especially so when he's stuck in said elevator having one of the worst meltdowns he ever had, enough to give himself his own version of diary mode complete with electric effects. The one bit of good news was that they got enough lyrics from that angst to last them for a while! The bad news is that he may have caused a city wide blackout and he hasn't shown his face since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trina was actually enjoying the silence, but a whole week of it was starting to get a little bit concerning. That, and his friends wouldn't stop trying to get him to come out of his room. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>obnoxious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She wasn't home all the time, but not once did she hear him open the door no matter how they pleaded. Dad was so going to be totes sad and disappointed with her and that was where she drew the line. Which brought her here, glaring at his dumb loud band form the inside of her car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen up losers, Dad’s going to be checking in on us tomorrow and you need to get my dumb baby brother back to regular dumb loud self. Me and Mina will be having some shopping time so I won't have to hear all your gross feelings. Later!” With that she chucked the house keys and drove off in a cloud of smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think we’ll have any lucky today?”, asked Laney after coughing up a lungful of smog. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t not try!”, was Kon’s reply. A weeks worth of ignored calls, muffled go away's and dead silence was enough to curb even his enthusiasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Kin was already unlocking the door. The house still looked the same as their previous visits - a domestic normal that didn’t reflect the world tipping event of Corey going diary mode and then some. Other than a few more scuffs on the corners it wasn’t different than how it was from when they were kids. Even the stains from Jammie were still there on the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trek up to the lead singer's room was short and silent. They’ve gone through every plan they could get away with and some that they didn’t trying to pry him out of his room. Trina still hasn't given them their blowtorches or crowbars back. Desperate times called for desperate measures and all that was the band's justification. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure that I can-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Riffin said no lasers after last time”, Laney absentmindedly replied as she focused on lock picking the good ole fashioned way. Bobby pins were all kinds of useful. “No breaking the door down either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kon not so subtly put the golf club back in its case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few minutes worth of cursing and jiggling, but the poster covered door popped open. The first thing that they noticed was that it was dark, even though it was nearly afternoon. Drawing the curtains, blinds shut then draping a blanket over the window tended to do that. The second thing they noticed, revealed after flicking on the lights, was the sorry state the whole thing was in. Corey wasn’t exactly neat or clean but he was better than this. There was a method to his madness that kept him from being distracted by every little thing. This was like the floor after any hardcore party - crumbled inkstained paper everywhere, empty pens lodged in the wall, even a few scorch marks on the walls and ceiling. Said singer himself was passed out in bed, just a lump with a few stray limbs poking out. By the looks of it he hasn’t moved much from the position all week. Even his trademark beanie was tossed carelessly on the floor between an empty cracker box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeesh, this is worse than I imagined”, whispered Kin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No shit”, was all a shocked Laney could come up with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we wake him up first or try to clean up?”,  was Kon’s contribution to the discussion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, you know how he gets when people mess with his stuff.” People usually meaning Trina, but the point still stands. Not that it wasn't tempting. A hissing, pissed off frontman was better this depressed lump. Gingerly did the ginger step across the minefield mess of a floor, settling on the edge of the bed with a little bounce. Corey didn’t even twitch. “Hey, asshole, we’ve been worried about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No dice. The mattress dipped on either side as the twins joined her. A worried but determined glance was exchanged between the trio. Time to get serious. In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have shaken him that hard.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck?”, was what he meant to say, but it came out as rattled “Thdfc???”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the oversleeping and undereating, there was no wonder towards why his head and mouth felt like they were crammed full of steel wool. That still didn’t explain how or why his eyeballs were wriggling. Or what those blurry figures were doing. Wait, was this going to be another bad dream? The iron grip on his sides quickly dispelled that notion and nausea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s coming to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stop shaking him now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>guys!?”, was the first thing he managed to say coherently, “I told you I wan’d to be left alone!” The hell week he subjected himself to made his voice hoarse and slurred. The on and off crying didn’t help either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a week!”, said Laney, somewhere between concern and frustration, “Even Trina was starting to worry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Riffin’s going to be checking up on you tomorrow too”, Kin injected 'helpfully'. He knew that would get the singer’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit, Dad can’t- I gotta- “ Several different priorities did a nine car pile up within Corey’s mind. He didn’t want to let his adopted father down, when was the last time he had something more than a bag of cheese in the dead of night, he needed to shower pronto, where’s his beanie, what happened to his room, how’d they even get in!? The end result was him trying and failing to flop off his bed like a caught fish in his haste to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Laney’s iron grip on his shoulders prevented him from going anywhere. Kon helped with that by sitting on his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so fast mister”, growled the bassist, “You’re not going anywhere until you explain yourself. A whole week of nothing! No practices, no schemes, no texts, no calls, not even your face out the window!” Worry overcame anger as her shoulders slumped. The grip on his shoulders didn’t relax, but shifted from ‘restraining’ to ‘hanging on’. “Talk to us, Core.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief second it looked like he was going to try to be bullheaded about it. The fight went out of him as soon as it went in. It was hard to stay angry when presented with a triple combo of concerned looks. The hunger gnawing at the rest of his insides wasn't helping either. Even then, it was like pulling teeth to get the words out his throat. So much so that he pretty much mumbled into his shoulder rather than actually look at his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use your words, man!”, Kon burst out, unable to handle the tension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make me use the truth serum”, Kin threatened. He meant it too with a glare like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I had a freak out like I was a dumb kid again, in front of you guys!” Even with two and half limbs out of commission Corey managed to a sweeping gesture, nearly bonking his cast against Laney’s side. A flush rose to his cheeks as he continued. “All because of that </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>elevator music and I can't play anymore because of this thing, can’t even get out of homework with it, the Newman’s are getting all the gigs in town and, and I should have kept my cool instead of freaking out like I was Trina! I....I nearly hurt you guys by going all zappy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last part took the wind out of his sails more than the hunger pang did. The guitarist didn’t remember much from the whole ordeal, but the scorch marks inside that elevator might as well be burned into the back his eyelids. The nightmares loved to remind him what would have happened if it were just a few inches closer. He couldn’t look at them after spilling his guts like that, staring at the littered floor and trying to blink the tears out of his eyes. No way was he going to cry in front of them again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Core....” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was all the warning he got before he was smooshed in a group hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>super </span>
  </em>
  <span>stressed, dude!”, Kon started, “There's no shame in crying even if you did cause major property damage! You didn’t get us, and that’s what matters. You were really worried about us even in when you lighting up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And”, Laney cut in as her grip relaxed, “I- we’re sorry for not noticing how fucked up you were in the first place. Things kept happening and... Not to make excuses but we really should have noticed how tense you were getting.” Tense was one thing, occasionally putting off so much static electricity to instantly make hair poof no matter how much product in it was another. No matter how it was funny at the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be starting the one arm guitar when I get home”, Kon promised, “Really should’ve started that sooner, come to think of it. You deserve the best!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corey very pointedly did not sniff. “It’s o-okay guys, I was hiding it in the first place. It's my whole thing to be the cool guy with the crazy ideas that just might work. Not being able to do that </span>
  <em>
    <span>messed </span>
  </em>
  <span>me up big time. I just couldn’t take not being able to do anything fun anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took some wiggling, but he did his best to return the hug with one and a half functioning arms. “You guys are the greatest, you know that?” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you shower now? You fucking reek.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>does it even count as aged up characters when they’re like a year older</p></blockquote></div></div>
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